Balt. Why does he go so often to Madrid ? Chis. For the same reason that he eats no supper. He is in love. Were you ever in love, Baltasar ? Balt. I was never out of it, good Chispa. It has been the torment of my life. Chis. What are you on fire, too, old haystack? Why, we shall never be able to put you out. Vict. [without]. Chispa! Chis. Go to bed, Pero Grullo, for the cocks are crowing. Vict. Ea! Chispa! Chispa! Chis. Ea! Señor. Come with me, ancient Baltasar, and bring water for the horses. I will pay for the supper, to-morrow. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-VICTORIAN'S Chambers at Alcalá. HYPOLITO asleep in an arm-chair. He awakes slowly. Hyp. I must have been asleep! ay, sound asleep! [He plays and sings.] Padre Francisco! Padre Francisco! What do you want of Padre Francisco? [Enter VICTORIAN.] Vict. Padre Hypolito! Padre Hypolito! I am the greatest sinner that doth live. I will confess the sweetest of all crimes, A maiden wooed and won. Нур. The same old tale Of the old woman in the chimney corner, Who, while the pot boils, says, "Come here, my child; Vict. Nay, listen, for my heart is full; so full That I must speak. Hyp. Alas! that heart of thine Is like a scene in the old play; the curtain The eleven thousand virgins of Cologne! Vict. Nay, like the Sibyl's volumes, thou shouldst say; Those that remained, after the six were burned, Being held more precious than the nine together. The gipsy girl we saw at Córdova Dance the Romalis in the market-place? Vict. Ay, the same. Thou knowest how her image haunted me She's in Madrid. Hyp. Vict. I know it. And I'm in love. Hyp. And therefore in Madrid when thou shouldst be In Alcalá. Vict. O pardon me, my friend, If I so long have kept this secret from thee; But silence is the charm that guards such treasures, They sink again, they were not meant for us. Thou knowest the proverb. But pray tell me, lover, Write her a song, beginning with an Ave; Sing as the monk sang to the Virgin Mary, Ace! cujus calcem clare, Nec centenni commendare Vict. Pray, do not jest! This is no time for it. I am in earnest! Hyp. Seriously enamoured? What, ho! The Primus of great Alcalá Vict. Hyp. Surely thou wilt not marry her! I mean it honestly. Why not? They quarrelled, Who danced with her at Córdova. Vict. And so the matter ended. The angels sang in heaven when she was born! Among the filth and rubbish of the world. Set on my forehead like the morning star, The world may wonder, but it will not laugh. Hyp. If thou wear'st nothing else upon thy forehead, "Twill be indeed a wonder. Vict. Out upon thee, With thy unseasonable jests! Pray, tell me, Hyp. Not much. What, think'st thou, is she doing at this moment; Vict. She lies asleep, Comes like the fragrance from the lips of flowers. Which means, in prose, Hyp. Hyp. And wouldst thou venture? Ay, indeed I would! Vict. Vict. Yes, all the awful mystery of Life! I oft have thought, my dear Hypolito, In the same attitudes they now are in, What fearful glances downward might we cast What groups should we behold about the death-bed, What joyful welcomes, and what sad farewells! Hyp. Ay, there it is! and, if I were in love, F Might tell a tale were better left untold. For instance, they might show us thy fair cousin, Of love and anger, like the maid of Colchis, Having won that golden fleece, a woman's love Vict. Hold thy peace! She cares not for me. She may wed another, Or go into a convent, and, thus dying, Marry Achilles in the Elysian Fields. Hyp. [rising]. And so, good night! Good morning, I should say. [Clock strikes three.] Hark! how the loud and ponderous mace of Time Knocks at the golden portals of the day! And so, once more, good night! We'll speak more largely Of Preciosa when we meet again. Get thee to bed, and the magician, Sleep, Shall show her to thee, in his magic glass, Vict. [Exit. Good night! But not to bed; for I must read awhile. [Throws himself into the arm-chair which HYPOLITO has left, and lays a large book open upon his knees.] Must read, or sit in reverie and watch The changing colour of the waves that break Upon the idle sea-shore of the mind! Visions of Fame! that once did visit me, Making night glorious with your smile, where are ye? O, who shall give me, now that ye are gone, Juices of those immortal plants that bloom Upon Olympus, making us immortal ? Or teach me where that wondrous mandrake grows I have the wish, but want the will, to act! Souls of great men departed! Ye whose words Into transparent crystal, bright and clear. Shine as immortal poems, at the touch Of some poor, houseless, homeless, wandering bard, But there are brighter dreams than those of Fame, As from some woodland fount a spirit rises Ere the enamoured knight can touch her robe! Like the enamoured knight beside the fountain, Sweet Sleep! and all the flowers that bloom at night [Gradually sinks asleep.] ACT II. SCENE I.-PRECIOSA's Chamber. Morning. PRECIOSA and ANGELICA. Pre. Why will you go so soon? Stay yet awhile. |